What Ron Did
by Flaminia Grisandole
Summary: Harry can't understand why Ron isn't receiving the credit he deserves. Warning: SlashHarryRon


What Ron Did 

Ron, Hermione and I spent months searching and destroying Horcruxes. As we were in the process of slicing Nagini cleanly in half, the bloody snake took her last breath and bit Hermione. So she stayed behind while Ron and I went on to destroy the last remaining part of Voldemort's soul—still encased in the snake-like body of Tom Riddle.

Weakened from the lack of Horcruxes, the spell my best mates helped me perfect worked, quite literally, like a charm.

It was finally over. The Dark Lord, as well as his followers, would cometh no more.

Only I did not perform the spell.

Ron did.

Yet no one believed it.

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With a pride shining like no other, I reported every detail to the Order. To the Ministry. Even to the different Healers that popped in to check Ron and my stats. My story never changed. Only my frustration grew as one person after another patted my back and insisted I needed a good rest. Then I could tell them what _really_ happened.

What upset me the most was that even the Weasleys and Hermione looked at me doubtfully.

Because there was _evidence_ that proved my story incorrect.

And the fact that Ron claimed not to remember most of what happened.

Pure rubbish.

However, I know what really happened.

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After leaving Hermione tucked safely in St. Mungo's to recover, we joined the Order at their camp (after much arguing with Remus and Tonks about allowing us to become involved.) where they staked out potential Death Eater and Dark Lord sightings.

Old Tom had been very scarce while his Horcruxes were destroyed. So when my scar began to itch and burn, Ron and I snuck out of the Order's camp. I figured this was my chance to get him before he got me. And Ron refused to let me go alone.

Prophecy be damned, he had said.

I should have known it would be a trap. Or maybe I did know, yet thought I was ready for it.

Whatever the case, we had barely stepped out of the camp's protective wards when we were surrounded and disarmed by several well-known, un-masked Death Eaters.

Before we could even make a run for it, Bellatrix Lestrange and Nott Sr. caught me as Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr. caught Ron. Lucius Malfoy appeared, his long silver-blond hair tied back in a stupid black bow. When he spotted Ron's wand laying a few feet away, he immediately picked it up, studying it for a long moment. No one seemed particularly interested in my wand, wherever it had landed.

Malfoy Sr. strode over to Ron, spouting insults and flicked Ron cruelly on the nose with his own wand. Ron stood still in Crabbe and Goyle's tight grip and glared evenly at the blond Death Eater.

Before I could utter a word, Bellatrix pressed her cold fingers over my mouth; her talon-long nails digging into my cheek. I struggled to free myself and received a punch in the gut from Nott, temporarily knocking the breath out of me.

"You really are a disgrace to the name of wizard, Weasley," Malfoy crooned in that smooth Slytherin way, "It really will be doing the world a favor to kill you."

With all my might I pushed against my captors' hold. I tried biting the fingers covering my mouth, but the witch was impervious to pain. Her grip only got firmer.

"Tsk, Tsk. Such a shame to lose yet another breeder for the Purebloods." Malfoy shrugged. "Oh, well."

Ron hocked a large glob of spit right in the wealthy prat's face.

Malfoy blinked and carelessly wiped his face. He smirked and brandished Ron's wand across its owner's face. "You'll not be needing this anymore," he clutched the wand hard in his hand and it crumbled into pieces.

I lunged forward as Malfoy tossed the pieces over his shoulder with a cool grin plastered on his pale face. Nott twisted my arms back. Bellatrix stomped on my foot and elbowed me again in the gut. I tried my best to hold back a wince.

The Senior Malfoy laughed. Then he ran a fist right into Ron's face. Then his stomach. Just as he brought his fist back to hit Ron again, the _Pop_ of Apparition sounded.

"Lucius, there are much easier ways to cause pain," Voldemort hissed from behind the blond Slytherin. "**_Crucio_**!"

Lucius stepped aside, chuckling as he watched Ron writhe and twist in pain. Crabbe and Goyle still held him tight, not allowing him to fall to the ground, no matter how much his body seized.

I cried out against Bellatrix's cold fingers and tried again to push my way free. Bellatrix cackled and snarled in my ear, "Foolish boy, you think you can beat us?" My stomach clenched and my heart crept up into my throat.

Finally Ron stopped writhing and went limp in his captors' grip. His head hung down, red hair falling in dirty strands against his cheeks.

I blinked back my tears. I would not show them any weakness.

Voldemort turned to me, an amused look in his red-slit eyes. I stopped struggling for a moment and met his stare.

He cocked his head and said in a tone that sounded much like his memory in the Chamber, "What would you say, if we let you speak? Would you beg us to let him go? To take you instead? Ah! What a noble gesture. Noble, yet stupid." In one long step he stood close to Ron. He grabbed a handful of red hair and pulled Ron's head back to study the placid face. "Because we all know that watching him die will be worse than your own death." He dropped Ron's head carelessly to let it hang limply again.

I closed my eyes to gather my strength before lunging forward again.

"Enough!" Malfoy flashed his wand at me and instantly my arms and legs were locked in a full body bind.

Voldemort stepped close to me and I could not even turn my face away from his rancid breath.

"See, I know your secret, boy. The secret you hid so well, even from yourself."

I tried my best not to blink at his words.

"The thing you would miss the most," The self-proclaimed Dark Lord never took his eyes off me as he aimed his wand at Ron's head.

All I could do was watch with wide eyes.

"Avad…"

"_Conligere Ultimus Animatium_," Ron's head snapped up and Crabbe and Goyle were thrown away from him.

My best mate's hands raised up slowly and pointed palms out at Voldemort's chest.

"**_Conligere Ultimus Animatium_**!" A bright violet-colored light burst forth from Ron's palms and hit our adversary square in the chest, forcing him back away from me. At the same time, Bellatrix and Nott took a step backward, pulling me with them.

As the light pushed at his chest, Voldemort's hand began to shake. His wand dropped to the ground. Crabbe and Goyle lay unconscious a bit behind where Ron stood. Malfoy made a move towards Ron, but was thrown away landing flat on his back.

"**_CONLIGERE. ULTIMUS. ANIMATIUM!_**" The light began to spread, burning a hole through Voldemort's chest. Again I was reminded of the Tom Riddle I faced in the Chamber.

The light grew and brightened to the point that I had to shut my eyes.

I felt a tingle go through my body and realized I could move again just as the hold on me loosened. Unable to catch my balance, or open my eyes to the brightness, I pitched forward heavily. I landed face first in the dirt and gasping for breath.

Once I caught my breath, I lifted my head, only to have to bury it under my arms as a vibrant burst of light engulfed everything around me.

"Finite Incantatem," I heard said softly. Cautiously I raised my head.

Ron stood with his arms limp at his sides, staring at the spot Voldemort once stood. There was nothing left except a few scorch marks in the grass.

Nott and Bellatrix lay flat on their backs, one hand clutching their forearm, unmoving. Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy also laid unmoving, in the place they landed when thrown away from Ron.

Ron bent and picked up Tom Riddle's wand. Instantly it turned to ash in his hand.

"Bloody hell," he murmured, shaking his ginger hair out of his face.

He wiped his hand on his trousers, took a step over to Malfoy and kicked the still Death Eater hard in the stomach. Then he turned to me.

"Ron…" I said. When did I get so weak?

"Harry!" he hurried over to me, and helped me sit up. He adjusted my glasses and wiped dirt from my face. I gripped the front of his shirt. "You alright?" he asked, studying me.

I nodded. "You?" He nodded. "That was brilliant, Ron," I added softly.

All his confidence seemed to drain away and he frowned, "I'm sorry, Harry…"

"No! Don't be," I pulled him closer. "Ron, I…"

Several _Cracks_ of Apparition could be heard around us. Startled, I looked around just before I was pried away from Ron.

"Harry! You did it! You really did it!" Remus pulled me to my feet and into a rough hug. I had to keep my hold on him because my legs were wobbly.

"It was Ron," I muttered.

"What? Oh no, Ron's right here, Tonk has got him," Remus said.

"Wotcher, Harry," I looked over and was horrified to see Ron limp in Tonks arms. "Poor bloke seems to have passed out. We better get you two to St. Mungo's."

Before I could say anything more, Remus Apparated us to the wizard hospital.

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Ron claimed to not remember anything after the Crucio.

Hermione and Remus insisted that it would have been impossible for Ron to perform the spell without a wand.

The spell, almost literally meant 'to collect the last of the soul.' The one we used for most of the Horcruxes (after breaking their curses) was quite similar. The object would be drained of the soul and collected into the Caster's wand to be disposed of later.

My wand tested positive.

According to Remus, not only did my wand contain the last piece of Tom Riddle's soul, my fingerprints were the only ones on it.

Therefore, the Order and the Ministry had made up their own version of what had happened. In their reports, and the ones printed in the paper, I summoned my wand and performed the spell just before the hex was cast on Ron.

It doesn't prove a thing. I saw it with my own spectacled eyes.

And that was the story I was sticking to.

So when the interviewer came from the Prophet, I granted him an interview. I told him every little detail. Although he looked doubtful, I saw to it he wrote it down just as I said it.

That should show them.

X -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the moment, there was no need to worry about any of the Death Eaters. Once Riddle dissolved (or exploded or spontaneously combusted, or whatever), each and every person carrying a Dark Mark on their arm fell into a comatose state. Without another place to put them all, they all lay in Azkaban where volunteer Healers watched over them, waiting for them to wake.

So after a couple of awful Rejuvenating potions and a full day's sleep, it was safe for Ron and me to be discharged from St. Mungo's. Hermione had been discharged a day earlier and went back to London with her parents. She would not be coming back to the Burrow with us.

That brightened my mood a bit.

I was still quite peeved at her not believing me.

Besides, things between her and Ron had been a little strained ever since she kissed him at Bill and Fleur's wedding. He made the mistake of pulling a sour face and tactlessly announced that it felt like kissing Ginny.

Attacking canaries were nothing. We had to postpone our journey to Godric's Hollow a week while we waited for his trousers to fit right again.

On the first morning back, I sat across from Ron at the breakfast table. Mr. Weasley had left for work already. Ginny went back to Hogwarts to finish out her last two years at Mrs. Weasley's insistence. (It was the end of September.) Charlie and Bill were finishing up Order business at Grimmauld Place. Fred and George were readying their shop for re-opening. Percy was…well, Percy. Still up Scrimgeour's arse, I guess.

Mrs. Weasley bustled around in the kitchen as Ron and I finished our breakfast. Actually, Ron ate with his usual gusto, but I found my appetite lacking as I still fumed on everyone's reluctance to accept that Ron had done the spell.

Even Ron himself didn't seem to keen to believe it. Although he blushed furiously, his face practically blending in with his hair, as I told him time after time how brilliant he had been.

The mail came and Mrs. Weasley immediately unrolled the Prophet and scanned the front page.

"Oh, look! Your very own exclusive—on the front page, Harry!" she waved the paper excitedly.

Tentatively I took the paper she thrust at me. Of course there had already been several articles about what had happened, but they were all from what the Ministry disclosed and did not go into very much detail.

And were incorrect.

Hopefully, since it was straight from my mouth this time, they got it right.

Apparently this was too much to ask.

Oh, they got the details right. In fact, every single little detail I told the interviewer was included.

With one exception.

They reversed Ron and my names.

I threw the paper across the room, stunning both Ron and his mum. Slowly Ron got up to retrieve the scattered pages. I glared at the table, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

"Harry…" Mrs. Weasley began but was cut off by a gesture I saw Ron make out of the corner of my eye. She sighed and headed out of the room.

"Well, it's like you told me, yeah?" Ron asked after reading through the article quickly.

I shot him a nasty look. It faded as he gave me a weak smile.

"Well, you know how the Prophet is." He shrugged.

I let out a heavy sigh and laid my head in my arms on the table. Ron was quiet for a moment as I listened to him rustle through the pages. Without looking I knew he was going straight for the Quidditch scores.

"Ah! Look at this!" Ron slid onto the bench next to me, bumping into my shoulder as I looked up. He spread the paper out in front of me and pointed excitedly to a blocked off article. "They're holding open try-outs for the Cannons next week for reserve players! We should go for it!"

"What?" I read through the advert stating what Ron had just said plus a day and a time.

"Come on, Harry! It would be brilliant! I'm sure you'll at least make the team. And at least I can say I tried…"

"Who's to say you won't make the team?" I said defensively.

"Alright!" he rolled his eyes. "Then just think about how wicked it would be for us to be on the same team! We'd practice together and travel together…"

"Room together," I murmured, grinning slightly.

"Yeah! It'll be brilliant!"

It did sound brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant. "But I thought your mum wanted you to go back to Hogwarts…"

"Ah, come off it, Harry. Would you want to go back and give up a chance to play professional Quidditch?" I shrugged. Ron thought a moment. I took this time to realize that he was still pressed against me, his thigh against mine and his arm resting behind me on the back of the bench.

Of course I would rather play Quidditch than go back to Hogwarts. Especially if it would mean I would be with Ron. Although if Ron decided to go back to Hogwarts, I would go along with him there, too.

It might have something to do with the fact that I never wanted to leave his side. Ever.

Which might also have something to do with the fact that I had recently realized I was in love with him.

It only took me six years to figure it out.

Six years and one wedding, in fact.

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I was a little nervous going back to the Burrow that summer after breaking up with Ginny. I didn't want anything to be awkward.

There really wasn't anything to be worried about.

When I saw her the first day, I didn't see her as an ex-girlfriend. I didn't even see her as an ex-snogging partner. I only saw her as a friend.

Not one ounce of jealousy did I feel when I found out she had gone back with Dean.

For days I racked my brain for reasons why I had even wanted to go out with her in the first place.

She liked to play and talk Quidditch. But so did Ron, so I could always get my Quidditch fix with him.

She had a great sense of humor and a lot of spunk. But Ron was always a laugh and he never had a problem standing up for what he believed in, even if there were spiders involved.

She was quite clever, yet didn't shove knowledge down my throat. If I needed to know something I could always go to Hermione, but if I wanted to escape homework I could always go to Ron.

She had brilliant red hair and a scattering of freckles. But so did Ron.

Oh.

However, I didn't immediately put it all together. Instead I thought that Ginny was a nice schoolboy fling, because I was very sincere when I told her that it had made me feel a bit more like a normal bloke when we were going out.

And I was soon about to have more on my mind than girlfriends.

But I never would have thought that would have included thinking about wanting a boyfriend.

Anyway, I spent a fortnight at the Burrow as preparations were made for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Hermione was there too, and Ron and her danced about each other the whole two weeks as I stood by and watched.

And grew more and more irritated. To the point that I wanted to shout at them to just snog and get it over with.

But still they danced.

Because the other rooms needed to be readied for guests, I was again sharing a room with Ron. I was actually a bit relieved because I was so used to his snores that it made me sleep a bit easier at night.

Plus, it was much easier to talk more frankly across a dark room about things.

Our wishes for the future. Our fears. Our upcoming journey. Horcruxes. Dumbledore's death. The Prophecy.

Things we never really discussed with anyone else, not even Hermione.

It was sort of nice, and in an odd way, made me feel a bit more normal again, at least for a little while as the wedding approached.

The day of the wedding was mass chaos.

The kitchen boiled over with various foods cooking, cooling and just taking up space until they could be transferred to somewhere out of the way and safe from thieving fingers and paws.

The girls took over the bathrooms and called frantically out to one another for pins, stockings and lost earrings. The blokes moved the furniture in the living room and parlor to the corners of the room and set up tables and chairs in the garden, stuffing it to the gills with as many as could fit. Closer to the time of the wedding, calls for robe clasps, belt buckles and black socks could be heard upstairs.

Members of the Order rushed about re-enforcing last minute protection wards.

I got dressed and ready before Ron had even finished his shower. So I volunteered to help Ginny take hats and escort guests to the back.

I don't think I've ever seen so many redheads in my life.

Soon Hermione joined us. She looked as lovely as she did at the Yule Ball—maybe even more so since she had become older and, er, filled out.

She and I found seats together as the last of the guests were seated and Ginny ran off to join the wedding procession. Ron was also in the wedding party, so he couldn't sit with us until the reception afterwards.

The music started and the crowd hushed its chattering. Bill came out followed by four of his brothers. They were all wearing dress robes of a vibrant cobalt blue, except for Bill, who wore ivory. Ron came up last in the line, smiling broadly at Hermione and me.

Something in me started at the sight of him.

Now, I had always noticed what Ron had looked like. I had noticed each of his growth spurts. I had noticed how his awkwardness grew into a distinguished handsomeness.

I thought that was normal. Ron was my friend. I noticed when Hermione grew lovelier as the years went on, too.

And we've already established what I noticed about Ginny.

It never bothered me to think this way about another bloke. It should be perfectly normal to notice how other people looked. It was just liked noticing Hagrid was tall and hairy, or Flitwick was short and clean.

After the fiasco he had to wear at the Yule Ball, I guess I just wasn't used to seeing Ron in normal dress robes.

There was a short intake of breath besides me. I guess Hermione wasn't used to it either.

I shook my head and focused on the ceremony.

It was very much like a Muggle wedding, (not that I had ever been to one, but had seen a few on the telly at the Dursley's), only that the couple was hand fasted and a bonding spell would be cast at the end.

While Bill and Fleur recited their vows as prompted by the officiate, I found myself focusing on their words. They were so intimate, filled with a promise of such trust and loyalty that I began to wonder who I would feel comfortable enough with to share that sort of exchange. If the words were that intimate, I could hardly imagine what the spell would feel like.

Briefly I thought of Ginny, and confirmed for the last time that she was not the one for me.

Then my eyes flickered over to look at Ron, who saw me and grinned, crossing his eyes comically. I covered my chortle with a cough, causing Hermione to elbow me subtly.

Ron looked back towards the front, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes. For some reason I kept my eyes on him as Bill spoke his vows.

"I, Bill Weasley, take you, Fleur Delacour, to be my lawful wife. I pledge to you my everlasting love and loyalty. I will share with you my heart, my soul, my life. I have faith and trust in you to hold, cherish and keep these offerings with the utmost respect.

"You will be my friend, my confidant, my partner through sickness and health. Whether we are wealthy or poor. Through to my last breath on this plain.

"Fleur, I will bond my magical spirit with you to double our strength, our love and our lives. I give to you my life not only in love, but also as a protection. I make this promise to you now—should the need arise, I would willingly give my life for yours."

Hermione shook with sobs next to me. Vaguely I could hear other people softly crying into their handkerchiefs.

I was still looking at Ron. He had a most serious look on his face as he stared determinedly at Bill brushing Fleur's tears off her cheek as she tried to compose herself so they could continue the ceremony.

This could not be.

But the words…they were so true.

I was in love with my best mate. Only now I realized it.

Because I could not imagine sharing those promises with anyone else.

There was no one else I trusted more.

But why now? Why was I realizing this now? It not like I ever thought about dating him.

Although I we did spend a lot of time together.

It's not like I ever thought about snogging him.

But his touch was always comforting. It usually made me feel a bit better.

And I admit I found him attractive, but I never thought about him _sexually_.

Well.

Except for a few times when I wanked to relax enough to sleep.

And thinking about Ron always relaxed me.

Bloody hell.

Let me just say, once I came to this realization, I noticed a lot more things.

First thing, right away, I found myself terribly jealous of Hermione when Ron came up and pulled her to the dance floor after the ceremony.

And when he burst into our room afterwards to tell me about their kiss—I had to keep the beast in my belly at bay. Then when he told me what he had said, I was so relieved I collapsed in hysterical laughter on my bed.

When he leaned over me and called me a righteous prat, I realized we both had a growing bulge in our pants. Although mine was for a much different reason, as his was hexed with a suped-up Gigantio hex.

No longer needing to be jealous of Hermione, I noticed another thing. My hormones had finally decided to wake up to full capacity. It was like my brain finally realized that I had a penis between my legs that needed blood pumped into it. Every time I was around Ron. Or thought about Ron.

I had always wondered why I never got an erection while necking with Ginny.

But soon I had Horcruxes to worry about. Besides, I wasn't going to tell him anyway. It would ruin everything. And I couldn't face his rejection, since I knew he wouldn't feel the same.

It was difficult, though, trying to explain why he should not come with me after Hermione got hurt. I think my not confessing the truth to him made it easier for him to make me back down. He even aced me when I played the Prophecy card. When I insisted I was meant to defeat the Dark Lord.

That caused Ron to admit to me that he thought the Prophecy was complete rubbish. Anyone could kill the bastard. And even if it was me, I would still need someone to watch my back.

I guess that's one the reasons I loved the stubborn git. So I relented, even though I figured it would kill me if something happened to him.

Because when Riddle said he knew my secret, he was on the mark. Ron had always been what I would miss most in the world.

And always would be.

X ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I had almost told him, too, right before Remus and Tonks showed up. But now, with no one believing it was Ron, I couldn't do it.

Because I didn't want everyone, especially Ron, to think I just said those things because I was in love with him. Then no one would ever believe the truth.

So I was content to follow Ron to the Burrow. And if he went back to Hogwarts, I would follow too. And if he wanted to try out for the Cannons, I would too. Anything to stay near him as long as possible.

After a bit of thought, Ron came up with a simple plan. We try out for the Cannons and if we don't make it, then we go back to Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley seemed a bit reluctant, but finally relented, telling us we could always take classes in the off-season or study for our NEWTS at a later time. Ron snorted and told me later that he didn't have any inclination to open another text book ever if he didn't need to. I agreed with him and met his excitement about trying out for the team.

I didn't ask about what would happen if he made the team and I didn't.

Because I knew I would not be on that team without him.

Once it was decided we would try out, we went straight out to the field to start practicing like mad. It had been months since either of us had been on a broom, let alone played the game. That first practice practically killed us.

And I realized that I was definitely no good as a Chaser. It had been quite easy for Ron to block all of my shots. He even accused me of not trying hard enough.

But really, he was quite a good player, as long as no one was around to tease and torment him about it.

He decided he needed to push himself for this, though. When Fred and George came by for dinner that evening, he asked them to help us out with our practices.

After a bit of teasing, Fred said sincerely,

"Nah, really, good for you two for trying out."

George nodded. "I wish we could help, but things at the shop are really busy…"

"And we haven't hired any new employees yet…"

"So we've been doing all the grunt work on our own."

Ron looked crestfallen. I felt a bit disappointed, too. It would have been nice to play again with Fred and George.

"Um, what if Ron and I helped you out for a few hours a day?" I suggested. Ron looked up at me curiously.

"You mean," Fred started, sending his twin a message with his expression.

"In the store?" George finished.

I nodded. "I mean, as long as it's okay with you, Ron." I realized I blabbed out my idea without checking with him first.

"Erm, I guess it can't be that bad…" Ron tapped his chin, thoughtfully.

"Brilliant!" Fred and George exclaimed.

"Of course, when we make the team, you two are back on your own," Ron chided.

"Aren't we Mr. Confident!" Fred grabbed Ron in a headlock and gave him a long, hard noogy and George and I laughed.

Ron and I started the next morning. We shifted and unpacked boxes in the storeroom as Fred and George cleaned and fixed broken displays. With the extra help Fred and George could take a few hours before dinner each night to help us practice and play pick-up games when we had enough of drills.

Unless Ron totally choked, there was no doubt in my mind that he should make the team. He had become a fantastic player. I didn't say this because I was biased, either.

A big part of it was that he had a lot more confidence in himself.

After each practice he would clap me on the back, give me a wide grin (which made my stomach flip now), and tell me we were a shoe-in for the team. That they'd be daft not to beg us to join.

He said it with such conviction that I couldn't help but agree. Besides, how could I say anything negative when he was smiling at me like that? Or when he leaned his elbow on my shoulder as we walked back to the house?

I stayed in the twins' old bedroom again. (Much to my disappointment, but it's not like I could ask to stay in Ron's room, especially when there were five empty ones available.) Although they claimed to have collected most of their things, I think they left some of their test products behind. Odd noises came from the closet and woke me promptly at 5am every morning.

Usually I fell back to sleep fairly easily. Amazingly my nightmares turned out to have happy endings, usually replays of what had happened, only most of the time by the end Ron and I were not only out of breath and dirty, but were also naked and sweaty.

The morning of the try-out, I could not go back to sleep.

Instead I panicked.

What if I didn't make the team?

I was so sure Ron would make it, but was still unsure about myself. But how could I ask him not to accept their offer if I didn't make it? That would be truly unfair to him. Especially when he deserved the chance so much.

I guess I could just go back to Hogwarts. Hermione and Ginny were there. (Hermione of course could not survive without taking her NEWTs. She owled us earlier in the week to tell us that after she spent a week with her parents, went back late for the start of term.) Neville, Dean and Seamus owled and told us they had gone back, too, when they realized the school would remain open.

But how could I go back there without Ron? How could I be without Ron?

I shook my head as the days first light peeped through the curtains. Get over yourself Potter. Just take a deep breath and go out there and do your damn best. Make them beg you to be on the team.

Maybe if we play a scrimmage they will see how well Ron and I work together on a team and realize we were a pair not to be broken up.

This of course was a stupid thought, since Keepers and Seekers didn't usually work together. It wasn't like we were both Beaters like Fred or George, or even Chasers

I sighed and climbed out of bed to head for the shower. If it came to it, I could always try playing the I-am-Harry-Potter trump card.

Ron was a giddy, hyper chatterbox that morning. On the way to the Portkey site the advert listed for our area, he talked non-stop about his vast knowledge of Quidditch and the Chudley Cannons. He swung his bag that held his broom and gear and knocked into me almost rhythmically.

His bright blue eyes shone and his smile was so contagious that my nervousness and worry pushed itself to the back of my mind. Several times I had to stop myself from grabbing hold of his hand when it bumped into mine.

We neared the spot where the Portkey was said to be located and saw three blokes who looked quite a bit alike and a blond girl in a tight ponytail standing around an empty milk carton. They watched us carefully as we stepped in to fill the circle. It was scheduled to depart at 10am exactly. We still had another fifteen minutes to wait.

They were definitely a few years older than us and after a moment I realized the girl must only be there for support because she was the only one without a bag on her shoulder.

Ron was still chattering in my ear about the last Cannons game and how they should have used a better defense strategy since Puddlemere was more of an offensive team. Only Ron would be criticizing a team he was about to try out for.

I was quite distracted by Ron's animated features. Therefore, I didn't even notice that we were being stared at and there was a hushed urgent whispering behind us until Ron stopped and glared back at them.

"You're…" one of the blokes said.

"Yes. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," I said shortly. Ron nodded at him, but the bloke didn't even look his way.

"So what was it like? You know, when you…" he asked me in an awed voice.

I rolled my eyes and hitched my bag up my shoulder. "I wouldn't know."

Ron looked away and coughed lightly.

"What? But they said you…" one of the other blokes piped up.

"Well, I didn't."

"But he's gone, right? I mean, they said your wand…" the girl piped up in a shaky voice.

"Yes, yes. He's gone and not coming back," I assured her.

"So then, how did you do it? I mean, in the Prophet you said you didn't have your wand, but the Ministry…" the first bloke asked.

"The Prophet was wrong. As well as the Ministry."

"But…"

"Look, " I sighed loudly, "I really don't want to talk about it, okay?"

I turned away from them and pretended to search for something in my bag. They all seemed to take the hint and didn't say anything else for the next few minutes. Finally Ron tugged on my sleeve lightly.

"Time to go," his breath brushed past my cheek as he spoke softly near my ear. I bit back another sigh and followed him back to the Portkey. No one said a word as we each placed a finger on the carton. On Ron's count of three I felt the awful pull as my insides felt like they were being pulled out from my navel.

Long, warm fingers wrapped around my arm and steadied me as the soft ground of a professional Quidditch pitch materialized underneath my feet. I leaned into the body next to mine.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked. I pulled away quickly.

"Oh, yeah, thanks," I returned his smile briefly before following him towards the crowd of people gathering around a long, thin table.

We signed in and followed a group of potential players into the locker rooms to gear up. After we were ready, we headed out to wait for instructions.

A surprising amount of people had come to try-out. Most of them looked to be a few years older than Ron and I. I did see a few Hogwarts students that I recognized were from the year ahead of us. I did not, however, point this out to Ron because I had no desire to talk with anyone who would bring up the whole Boy-Who-Lived-Again fiasco.

It turned out there wasn't much time to chat anyone up, even if you wanted. The players from the team lead everyone in laps and then some practice drills before we were sent to the sidelines to wait for our turn to come. A tall bony man with light brown hair wilder than mine introduced himself as Coach Wyligby before bringing out the team's captain, Lange Morgons. Morgons was just as tall, but not as bony and played Chaser for the Cannons. I had heard Ron talk about him before.

Morgons announced that they would be trying out the Beaters first. Ron and I found a spot in the grass to sit and watch. I looked around, some of my nervousness coming back to me.

A large burly man with a thick black mustache and a bald head sat near the posts talking heatedly to a stringy-looking young man busily writing down notes on a long piece of parchment. Coach Wyligby joined them, leaving Morgons in charge.

"Ander Booth," Ron said, his breath near my ear sending a twill of a chill down my spine. "He's the new owner. Just picked up the team from Nelson York days before…well, about a week before the advert."

I nodded, trying to concentrate on what was happening on the field. Ron had scooted closer to me to make room for more potentials, his knee resting against my thigh.

The Beaters were tested and then next were the Chasers. I definitely understood why they were looking for reserves.

They were a horrible bunch of klutzes.

Especially the Keeper, Ryan Levy.

He had a habit of cutting his turns around the posts too quick and catching an end of his broom on the pole, spinning himself out of control often.

He also seemed to have a problem with snarling his robes on the bristles of his own or a passing player's broomstick. When he didn't do that, he just ran straight into them.

They had to stop the Chaser try-outs three times to bandage him up.

The last time, when he was looking the wrong way and ran headfirst into one of the goal posts, I snorted and said to Ron,

"Bloody hell, you're a thousand times better than that ponce." At which Ron grinned and ducked his head so I wouldn't see his ears turn red. A bloke near us made a short gagging noise, but I ignored him.

Soon they were calling for the Seekers. My stomach clenched. The Cannon's Seeker,

Carl Weinchek, was one of the better players on the team. And some of the other blokes (no girls tried out for this position) were really good, too. My blood pounded in my ears as my name was called.

"You'll be brilliant, Harry. Just like always," Ron encouraged, squeezing my shoulder as I stood up. I nodded and managed a weak smile.

Even through my nervousness, it did not escape my notice that a tense hush fell over the Pitch as I walked over to Morgons. He shook my hand enthusiastically.

"Wow! Just wait until I tell the misses that THE Harry Potter came to try-out today!"

Again I smiled weakly. I wonder if I should read into his words that I wouldn't actually make the team…

"Okay, we'll go up and Fischer here," he nodded to a stout Beater, "will let fly the snitch. We'll fly around, hitting a Bludger around causing some distraction. We'll take five go's, and time each one. Got it?"

"Yes." A whistle was blown and we were up in the air.

I don't know why I was so nervous before. As soon as I was in the air I was a calm as could be. There was no stopping me, especially when I heard Ron below yelling,

"You go get'em, Harry!"

So I did.

I caught the first Snitch in less then two minutes.

The second one I caught in one.

They decided to up the ante and add a second Bludger and two more players.

Although that slowed me up a bit, I still caught each one within five minutes.

I tried not to smile too much when I came down and headed back over to Ron. He awarded me with a double hand slap and a playful ruffle of my hair. That made me smile even more.

A few more Seekers tried-out and much to my pleasure none of them were able to find the snitch within five minutes. In fact, some of them took so long that Weinchek had to fetch it.

Finally it was the Keepers' turn. None of them could save all ten goals as prescribed. I wished Ron luck as he headed over to Morgons. Wanting a better view, I made my way over to the table where Booth and Wyligby sat by the posts.

I stood near the table as I watched Ron make save after spectacular save. Without Slytherins scrum catcalling him, he had tons of confidence in his playing. He was eight of eight when I heard Booth and Wyligby talking in low, excited whispers. Thinking they were talking about Ron, I crept closer to eavesdrop better.

"…Such an asset to the team," Booth was saying.

"Really could turn around the whole year…" Wyligby agreed.

My chest swelled with pride. Finally, Ron was getting the recognition he deserved.

"He would fill the seats. Everyone would come see Harry Potter play for the Cannons!" Booth exclaimed.

My heart fell into my shin guards. The stringy boy noticed me standing there, frowning at them and tugged on Booth's sleeve.

Booth looked up and gave me a broad smile that reminded me a bit of Bagman.

"Mr. Potter! Just the man we were looking for."

A whistle blew and I looked about over to see Ron coming down from his broom. I missed the last two attempts. Swiftly I looked at the score board and wasn't surprised when it still read zero. He had blocked them all.

"He was brilliant, wasn't he?" I said to Booth, letting my eyes linger for a brief moment on Ron's flushed face as he chatted with one of the other candidates. I turned a hard look at the men at the table.

"What? Oh, um…" Booth looked flustered under my gaze.

"Were you even watching?" I accused.

Wyligby cleared his throat but they both ignored my question. "We were just about to find you and offer the reserve Seeker spot to you." Booth nodded so forcibly, I thought his neck would snap off.

"Who are you picking for the Keeper spot?" I pressed.

"Um, well, see that position's already been filled," the Coach stated.

"Can I ask to whom?"

"Brent Brody."

My mouth dropped. "The bloke who missed more than half the blocks?"

"Yes, well…" Wyligby shifted his eyes towards Booth.

"It's a family thing. Can't have my sister's son running about being a hooligan, can I?" Booth finally met my amazed stare.

This was unbelievable. Once again Ron was going to be overlooked even though he rightly deserved the spot. None of the others saved every single shot.

"So, about the Seeker reserve position, Mr. Potter…" Booth and Wyligby looked at me with an almost pleading expression. I understood completely what they wanted.

"Well, see, Mr. Booth, Ron's like a , er, brother to me. We come as a pair," I crossed my arms and smirked at them, "You understand, it's a _family_ thing."

"What are you saying?" Wyligby raised an eyebrow.

Here it is. I guess I would have to play that trump card after all.

Although I expected to use it to get _myself_ on the team, not Ron.

"What I am saying, Coach Wyligby," I spoke carefully, "is if you want _Harry Potter_ on your reserve squad, then you also have to have _Ron Weasley_."

Wyligby and Booth bent their heads together whispering furiously. I glanced over to Ron who stood about the other candidates waiting for the call list. Wyligby cleared his throat and I turned back to them.

"Okay, we'll take Weasley. Brody can be one of the Chasers or something…" Booth said. "Do we have a deal?" He held out his hand. I looked at it for a moment.

"One more thing. Don't mention this to Ron. Let him think you picked him just for his talent, okay?"

Booth gave me a slow, knowing smile, but nodded nonetheless.

"Okay, we have a deal." I shook his hand quickly.

Wyligby took the parchment from string-boy and made some marks and cross-outs on it. He pushed it back and hissed for it to be taken to Morgons.

Booth pulled his wand from his inside jacket pocket and seven pieces of parchment appeared. He handed me one of them and pointed to another so I saw Ron's name clearly at the top.

"All contracts are for two years. We will negotiate payment when you come next Monday for your uniform fitting."

I nodded in understanding and looked over the contract. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ron hurrying over to me, smiling so wide I thought his face would split in half.

"Isn't it bloody fantastic, Harry? You and me, Cannons!" He pulled on my arm excitedly, as the other five chosen walked up.

"Hiya, Uncle Ander!"

"Brent, it's Mr. Booth at work." Booth looked sternly at a boy who looked like a deflated duplicate of Dudley. I bit back a snarl and gave Ron his contract to read and sign.

Without bothering to shower or change, we headed to the approved Apparition point next to the Pitch and Apparated back to the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley had a little celebratory dinner for us. Not only did Fred and George come, but also Bill, Charlie, Remus and Tonks. She even made us a thick chocolate cake with "Congratulations Harry and Ron" written in Orange frosting on the top.

I frowned a bit that Ron's name still came after mine and was reminded about how I had to pull my name to get him a spot he should have gotten without any help.

I remembered in sixth year that Hermione had Confunded McLaggen to keep him from getting all five saves, even though Ron made all five of his saves. I remember thinking that it was a bit unfair of her to not believe in Ron. (Huh, just like _now_.)

She got her comeuppance, though. She made the mistake of trying to use McLaggen to make Ron jealous and it backfired on her. McLaggen followed her around like a puppy in heat for weeks.

But they would see. Ron would get a chance to play and they would see just how good he is.

I stopped venting and found myself slightly entranced with the chocolate surrounding Ron's lips. He licked his messy fingers one by one as his mum scolded him. Bill pulled a glop of orange frosting onto his finger and swiped it across the bridge of Ron's nose, and everyone laughed as Ron tried to lick it off with his tongue.

"Better get used to it, Ronnikins, you'll be wearing a lot of orange from now on," Charlie chided playfully.

George shook his head, "I never understood why you had to pick a team with colors that clash so terribly with red hair." Fred rustled Ron's floppy hair.

"It's not so bad," I blurted. They all looked at me. I was about to add that I thought red and orange did go together and were warm colors and I always liked Ron in his faded Cannons tee-shirts, but I stopped myself. Instead I said, "Well, with my hair, I'm going to look like Halloween all year long."

And everyone laughed again.

I really needed something to distract me from these newfound feelings before I made a right prat of myself.

X -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being on the same team with Ron was a combination of a dream and a nightmare. Spending all that time around him, not only at the Burrow but also when we had team meetings and practices, got more difficult as the days went on. Because not even flying or Quidditch distracted me anymore. It only added fuel to the fire.

At the end of our fourth practice, Coach Wyligby pulled me aside and told me I would be starting Seeker for Sunday's upcoming game against the Wasps. I smiled my thanks to him, but I wasn't sure why he would put me in. I had been total rubbish at practice that day.

I had lost the Snitch three times and almost ploughed into another player twice.

Because I had been focusing on other things.

Like the way Ron's arse came up away from his broom when he stretched to block a goal.

Or the way his hair whipped about his face and brushed softly against the back of his neck.

Or the way his robes defined the growing muscles in his back and shoulders.

Or the way he licked the tips of each long finger so he could get a better grip on the Quaffle.

Erm, well…

Maybe it was a good thing I had my own room at the Burrow. Then I wouldn't be caught wanking every night.

Or every morning.

Or sometimes in the middle of night when I woke from a dream.

At least the presence of the other blokes detered me from pulling one off in the showers after practice.

Anyway, the day of the match against the Wasps, a thick, heavy fog rolled in and decided to lay about for a while. Visibility was pretty limited.

The only other new reserve player starting was (big surprise) Brent Brody. Luckily I didn't have to be near him on the field.

For the weather being lousy and it being the Cannons playing, the stands were quite full. It seemed Booth had made a public announcement in the Prophet (and Witch Weekly, Quidditch Monthly and even the Quibbler) that I would be starting in the game.

Oh, I should have known.

The game started and I could just feel everyone one watching me.

Oh, really, no pressure.

But the visibility was almost zero, even with the Repellent charm on my goggles. I couldn't find the Snitch anywhere.

And we couldn't make a goal to save our lives.

Because the git Brody not only had the aim of a blind man in a dark room, but was a complete Quaffle-hog..

Even when there was a clear opening, he overshot the hoop by kilometers.

And our defense…What defense?

Levy couldn't stop the Quaffle if you rode right up and handed it to him.

Forty-five minutes into the game and we were down 130 to nothing.

Oh, make that 140 to nothing.

Merlin, I needed to find that Snitch.

Then something amazing happened.

Levy blocked a goal. With his face.

He was out for the game and Ron was in.

I was not going to look at him. I will find that Snitch…

Then another amazing thing happened. I heard cheering—from the Cannons' stands.

Ron had blocked three goals in a row, according to the announcer.

But we still couldn't score.

The score was still 140 to zero. However, if Ron held them off while I got the Snitch, we could still squeak out a win.

Finally, I saw it. Low by the Wasps posts. Erlacker, the Wasp's Seeker, saw it too. I took off as fast as I could, weaving in and out of players, pulling up and down fast, and trying to shake my opponent. We were knocking shoulders as the Snitch buzzed just out of our reach.

Vaguely I heard the announcer calling out that one of the Wasps' Chasers headed for the goal.

I leaned forward, reaching out, trying to get to the golden ball first. It was at my fingertips as the announcer called excitedly that Ron had blocked the goal with a hard swing of his broom. The Quaffle sped across the pitch.

Erlacker dropped back just as I leaned forward a bit more.

As I grasped one of the sputtering wings, I heard a ding of a score being made.

The Quaffle, hit by Ron's broom, made the Cannon's only score.

We won the game, 160 to 140.

I came down with the Snitch clasped in my hand and was instantly surrounded by my teammates, slapping my back and ruffling my hair. Ron pushed his way through the crowd and pulled me into a crushing bear hug, lifting my feet off the ground.

"You did it, Harry! We won!" he exclaimed, setting me down. "You caught the Snitch before they scored again!"

"But _you_ blocked the goal! And did I hear the announcer right? Did you make a goal from the opposite side of the Pitch?" I could not hide the amazement and pride in my voice.

"Ah, well…" he shrugged. "I was really aiming at Erlacker to get him off your tail."

"But that's…" Suddenly we were engulfed in a sea of red hair, hugging us. The Weasleys (Except Ginny who couldn't get away from Hogwarts) had come to watch our first game.

I never got to finish telling Ron how amazing he really was. We were soon pushed to shower and change. Then Fred and George took us all out to a local Wizard pub for supper.

From the Pitch to the locker room to the pub I received many slaps on the back. Shouts of "Nice Game!" and "Good Catch!" followed us as we walked.

Not one person even acknowledged Ron was in the game. (Aside from the Weasleys, which at least eased my frustration a bit.)

When the late edition of the Prophet came during pudding back at the Burrow, there was a lengthy article about how Harry Potter started in his first professional Quidditch match and caught the Snitch in record time for the Cannons.

"But it is a record time for the Cannons. At least for the last ten years, no one on the Cannons have managed to catch the Snitch within two hours of game play," Ron tried to assure me when I shoved the paper away muttering about it being ridiculous.

"Humph. But they didn't mention anything about any of the other players accept that prat Brody. Especially about your six great saves while I fumbled for the Snitch. You would think they would have at least have said something about the goal you made."

"They called Brody 'a righteous ball hog that threw a Quaffle like an one-eyed pirate with a patch over his good eye'," Ron laughed. "And it's alright they didn't mention me. I'd rather have no publicity than bad publicity."

"Yes, but…"

Ron touched my sleeve gently. "S'alright, Harry. I had a great time playing. It might be a while before I get that chance again."

Levy's face had been righted by the end of the game. He would be back in for the match in two weeks against the Arrows. Although he really didn't deserve it. Ron was a much better player.

I opened my mouth to say just that but was stopped by the look on Ron's face. I sighed and looked back down at my half-eaten dessert.

" I just wished I could have seen you make that goal." _And that everyone could see just how wonderful you really are._

X ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The match against the Arrows only lasted a half hour. I wasn't going to give Levy and Brody the chance to botch things up and went for the Snitch straight away. Without the fog or Ron in the game as a distraction, I was able to perform almost admirably.

We had another week of practices and then we were going on the road for six weeks, coming back right before the Christmas holidays.

At the last practice before we hit the road, Levy didn't turn up. As we rounded up for the day, Wyligby announced that Levy would not be joining us on the road due to an accident landing him in St. Mungo's for a while.

How anyone could hex themselves getting into the bath was beyond me.

"Weasley, looks like you're in. Potter, you're still in, too. And Brody…" Wyligby bit back a smile, "Let's give you a rest for the first few games and let Depot have a go."

Ah, maybe someone had been listening to me.

Depot was much better than Brody and we actually got a few goals the first game against the Falcons. Of course Ron blocked almost all the goals, only letting one through when he had to duck out of the way of a Bludger.

Good thing they had done so well, because I had been watching Ron a few times and missed the Snitch. It took me over an hour to finally get it together and find it.

Of course, the papers still swelled with my name, hardly mentioning the other players again.

With each game, Ron got better and better.

And as he got better, it took me longer and longer to catch the Snitch.

In fact, in the third game I was so busy watching Ron make another great save from my perch above that I missed the Tornados' Seeker dive down for the Snitch. We lost the game.

Still Wyligby kept me in.

In the fifth game, I missed catching the Snitch again, as I was too busy watching Ron lick his fingers before expertly catching the Quaffle. I went after it, but was too far behind the Magpies' Seeker to catch it. Luckily we scored at the last minute with a great play by Ron's impeccable pass to Depot, leaving the score 160 to 150.

Ron was surely the star player, with Depot close behind. But still I got all the mention, Depot got only a little mention and Ron got no mention at all in the papers or on the Wizarding Wireless Network.

Wyligby wouldn't hear of it when I asked to be pulled from starting lineup. He just clapped a bony hand on my back and told me to practice more.

When I complained to Ron (as I tried not to stare at his bare freckled chest as he lay sprawled out on his bed browsing a Quidditch supply magazine), he told me that maybe I was just in a funk or didn't like the stress of being on the road.

"You were brilliant in the match against the Arrows, why don't you find that zone again?" he suggested. (I noticed he ignored my comments about his lack of publicity.)

How could I tell him I could play better when I wasn't distracted by watching him play? I wouldn't want him not to play because of my insatiable desire and adoration of him. Instead I nodded and headed for a shower (wank).

I was pulled out of the sixth game against the Kestrels.

Well, technically, everyone else would say it was the Bludger that knocked me out of the game…and off my broom.

Luckily I hadn't been far from the ground. I had been trying to stay lower than the other Seeker so I would be sure not to miss him going into a dive for the Snitch.

It had been the perfect spot.

I could see right up under Ron's robes, his tight trousers defining his arse and legs most wonderfully.

I was thinking things I shouldn't about the broomstick between his thighs when…

Wham!

Right to the head. Blacked out a bit and slid off my broom five feet to the ground.

I guess I hadn't heard Fischer calling out to me.

When I opened my eyes, I felt like my head had expanded three sizes. The Mediwizards came over and levitated me from the Pitch. Wearily I looked over to briefly meet Ron's worried look.

I think I might have blown him a kiss.

Maybe I could still blame it on the Bludger.

Five minutes later I was much more coherent, yet had a painful knot at the back of my head. They put Weinchek in and I watched from the sideline with a charmed cold press on the back of my head.

At least I now got to watch Ron without making a complete prat of myself.

The game turned out to be a long, scoreless one. The Kestrels' Keeper was almost as good as Ron and Depot seemed to be having an off day. But Ron kept their Chasers at bay, not allowing one goal in.

The Snitch didn't seem to be anywhere in sight.

Finally, as the sun began to set, Weinchek went after the Snitch, closely followed by the Kestrel's Seeker, Jacob Truman.

They were neck in neck when Weinchek pulled a perfect Wronski Feint, sending Truman barreling into the ground as Weinchek snatched the Snitch for the win.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was our last night on the road before we headed back to the Burrow for a long break. After one last check from the team's Mediwizard, I headed back to our room with Ron.

My head was still a little foggy, but after a warm shower I felt much better. I stretched out on my bed, resting as I waited for Ron to finish his shower so we could go down and grab a bite at the hotel clubhouse.

I was not thinking about Ron, naked, wet, and lathered in soap right through the door less than ten steps away.

Nope, I was not.

Until I heard the low moan.

Then I heard it again.

My overactive imagination made me imagine I could hear the slapping of skin on skin.

Made me think that Ron might be wanking.

Naked, wet and lathered in soap Ron--wanking.

Through the door just ten steps away.

Bloody-fucking hell.

I was not going to slide my hand into my trousers.

I would not unzip them to free my hard-as-a-diamond cock.

I could not stroke and tease and pull myself off while listening to my best mate showering (and wanking).

Nope, not at all.

Oh, shite, did that feel good.

I closed my eyes and tried to match the rhythm I imagined him using.

Sliding those long, strong fingers up and down his hot, hard thick cock. Slowly at first, making sure to slide his thumb across the head on each upstroke. Across the slit to catch the drop of precum pushing out of it.

Then he would pull harder, faster. Leaning against the wall, his head tilted back as the spray from the shower rinsed away the lather he left abandoned in his passion to touch himself. How his skin would flush and his gorgeous freckles would almost radiate across his back, shoulders and chest.

Faster still, ever closer to his climax, his knees would bend a bit and the water would run in droplets down the sides of his face. Down his back. Dipping into the curve of his sumptuously freckled arse…

My hips bucked up off the bed and my hand moved faster than I could have imagined. The image of Ron's concerned expression on the Pitch earlier that day appeared in my head. A heavy warmth exploded in my belly as I came hard over my shirt and pants, and bit my lip severely to not shout out.

I lay there, a complete mess, panting hard as I came down from my high.

Then I realized that the shower had stopped running and I heard the toilet flush.

I reached for my wand and spelled myself clean. I had just tossed my wand back on the bedside table and zipped up my trousers when the door opened.

Ron only wore his boxers.

Amazingly, my cock twitched. I shifted to sit up better to cover any upcoming anatomy.

Ron looked at me and frowned.

"You alright, Harry?"

My face was warm and I still panted a bit. I nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. My heart leapt into my throat when he headed over to me. He reached out and pushed his finger through my hair at the back of my head to touch the bump there delicately.

"Still hurt?" he asked, pulling his hand away and sitting on the edge of the bed facing me.

My voice caught throat in my for a moment. "Not much anymore."

"You were pretty out of it for a moment," he smirked.

"Yeah, well…" I tried to tear my eyes away from his.

"Very cute when you blew me that kiss, I bet the other blokes on the team are jealous," he laughed.

"Ah, well…I…You see…"

"It's okay." his laughter stopped and his face grew serious. "Just as long as you're alright…"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I mumbled, looking down at my knees.

"I heard Fischer call out but by the time I turned around the bloody thing was already connecting with your head."

"S'alright, Ron. Wasn't paying attention…" I fiddled with the fabric on the bed.

"I should have been paying more attention, too, instead I was involved in the bloody game…I'm just glad it wasn't worse…"

I looked up and realized how very close we were. So close that I could feel the ghosting of his breath on my nose, sneaking up underneath my glasses. There was an expression in his eyes that I couldn't read.

I should just tell him.

Right here, right now.

I took in a gulp of breath. It might turn out alright.

"Ron, I…"

The WWN clicked on then. It had been set to magically go off for public announcements by the hotel staff.

"Breaking news from Azkaban Isle. After almost three months in a comatose-like state, hundreds of notorious Death Eaters finally awoke early this afternoon."

Fear filled Ron's eyes before he looked away from me.

"Many claimed it was like waking up from a recurring nightmare, and could not believe that they had been a part of such treachery. The proof that they all were indeed followers of the Dark Lord rests in the strange patch of purple skin on each of their forearms where the legendary Dark Mark once resided."

I stared at the back of Ron's head, trying to get him to look at me. He pointedly continued to stare at the Wireless.

"Five of the most well-known Death Eaters were found at the scene where the Dark Lord allegedly met his demise. They were questioned thoroughly.

"When asked to describe what transpired, Vincent Crabbe Senior was quoted, 'We thought we had Potter where we wanted, the Dark Lord was about to kill him. Suddenly a hard force threw me and my comrade to the ground. A bright light burst around us, making it impossible to see for a short period of time. Someone was chanting a spell and then the pain in my arm became blindingly painful. I saw the Dark Lord vanish and the Potter boy standing before him just before I passed out.'

"Bellatrix Lestrange, Theodore Nott Senior and Gregory Goyle Senior all affirmed the same when questioned. Lucius Malfoy, also present at the scene, could not be questioned as he remains in a comatose state.

"All Death Eaters are being kept in custody and carefully guarded by several Ministry appointed Aurors.

"In other news, said Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord, Harry Potter, Seeker for the Chudley Cannons, suffered minor injuries to the head in the match between the Cannons and the Kenmare Kestrels today. Carl Weinchek came in and the Cannons still managed the win at 150 to zero. Authorities report that Potter 'patched up nicely' and would be ready for the next game in January."

"Complete rubbish," I threw my pillow at the wireless, knocking it off the table.

Ron finally turned to look at me. "Do you think Azkaban can hold all of them?"

"I sure as hell hope so. I'm not going through that crap again, " I grumbled.

Ron didn't respond, only slowly got up to get dressed. The moment we had before the announcement had dissipated. What was I thinking? I could never tell him how I feel.

What I needed to do was to get over this. Briefly I thought I might be feeling this way for him because he saved our lives that day. Sort of like a hero thing. Then I realized that I had loved him even before Riddle rose from that stupid cauldron. Even if it did take me until the wedding to figure it out.

No. I loved him. But I could never have him. Not like that. I guess I should just be glad that I was still his best mate.

After a long silence, he asked in an almost inaudible voice,

"What do you think's wrong with Malfoy?"

I snorted, the image of him breaking Ron's wand and sucker punching him making my stomach clench. "I don't know, and I don't care. In fact, I couldn't be happier if he never woke up."

It's not like he would remember what happened. At least not correctly.

X---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Christmas holidays came and went quickly and for the most part calmly.

The Aurors obviously knew how to do their job now, but part of that might have been the strange passiveness of the Death Eaters.

Shopping and visiting the Wheezes shop became a bit unbearable as crowds of people would come up to me for my autograph. At first I reluctantly signed my name to every photo, game program or Prophet article thrust at me. I even stood for a few photos with the younger students of Hogwarts.

However, after Ron was blatantly ignored for a whole day, I started to wear my hat low over my forehead, my scarf tight around my face and made sure never to wear any orange-colored clothes.

Ron called me the 'Mummy,' laughing and pushing me into stores past any curious eyes.

Soon we were back to practicing every day. Our next road trip would not be until after the Easter holidays. We were to play a string of games at home.

It was a frustrating couple of months.

I often feigned sickness to keep from starting in games because I still had a hard time concentrating when Ron played.

The papers wrote about their concerns that their favorite Seeker-Who-Killed-Lord-Thingy might have a terminal disease. They still chose to ignore Ron even as he continued to shine as Keeper.

Our other teammates didn't seem to notice. They were just happy that practically every game was sold-out. And their paychecks were big.

Ron was the first one to bring up getting a flat together after we finished the next road tour.

I clung to the side of the chair so I would not jump foolhardily into his arms with glee.

For Ron's eighteenth birthday, I decided to throw him a big all out bash. He deserved it.

I reserved the Three Broomsticks (renovated and expanded) for the evening. I booked the Weird Sisters to come play live music. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't let me get a caterer and insisted on making all the food herself. I sent out invites to all our Hogwarts friends and Order members and she sent out ones to the family.

Somehow word got out that Harry Potter was throwing a party.

Masses of people thronged through the door to get a peep. Hagrid seemed to be able to turn most of them out.

Still, it seemed Ron was having a fun time. Fred and George had him cornered, trying to get him to open one of their presents when Hermione came in.

"Harry! It's so good to see you!" she gushed, rushing over and hugging me.

I gave her a weak hug back; I guess I still held a grudge. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Of course! Why wouldn't I come to your party?"

"It's Ron's party. Have you said hello yet?"

"I know it's his party," she said, exasperated. Then her voice grew quiet. "You heard about Azkaban, then?"

I snorted. "Yeah, rubbish."

"Ron seemed a bit worried. I think he's afraid Malfoy's going to wake up and do something."

"Like what? Become the next Dark Lord?"

"Exactly."

"So he's been writing?"

"Yes," she said indignantly. "At least one of you does."

"He reads your letters to me sometimes. I didn't know how much he wrote back," I frowned, feeling an odd boiling feeling in my belly. "I suppose he told you about the spectacular Starfish and Stick he pulled in the last game?"

"Erm, not really. He usually just goes on about how well you've been doing," she gave me an even look. I adverted my eyes.

"Well, that's crap because I've been lousy. He's the star of the team. He even comes up with strategies in practices that Morgons uses in the games. Although telling anyone else that is like talking to a Dragon's arse."

Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, are you still upset about…"

"Of course! I don't see why no one else sees it…"

"But Crabbe, Bellatrix, Nott, G…"

"So you believe a Death Eater's word over mine?"

"Harry…"

"You better go say hello to Ron," I started to turn away from her.

"Harry, you're sure you aren't just remembering it as you would have liked it to happen? Ron's told me what hap…"

"Remember to wish him Happy Birthday. It is what you're here for, right?" I didn't want to be near her anymore. I could feel her eyes on the back of my head for a long moment before I heard her walk away.

I was still fuming when Seamus, Dean and Neville came up to me, clapping me heartily on the back.

"Our Big Shot Quidditch player!" Seamus exclaimed.

"So are the birds fawning all over you yet?" Dean pressed.

"Not really," I shrugged. I did not want to deal with this right now. Truth was, some girls had approached me but I blew them all off. Or if I saw one coming, I took off in another direction.

"I've been keeping all the clippings about you from the papers," Neville smiled.

"Why?" I asked incredulously.

"Because they're about you, of course!" he grinned.

"And it's good to know that at least one of us is going to make something of himself," Seamus added.

I sighed. "Don't you listen to the live broadcasts, then?"

"Whenever we can!" Dean said.

"Well, then, you should know that I've been utter crap lately on the field. It's Ron who's the star Quidditch player," I said to them.

They looked at each in confusion. Seamus scratched his chin.

"Erm, I'm not sure what games you're talking about, Harry. All the ones we've listened to hardly mention Ron at all, except for a save here and there. Mostly they go on about your strategy for catching the Snitch and how you divert players from the goal post wit your great flying."

I stared at him, opened-mouth. Dean and Neville nodded in agreement.

"So really, stop being Modest Martin, Potter. Tell us what it's like to be the Star of the Show…"

"ENOUGH! ENOUGH OF THIS BLOODY SHITE ALREADY!" I bellowed at the top of my voice. My three former dorm mates backed slightly away from me.

A hush fell over the room. But I couldn't stop.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW COMPLETELY DAFT EVERYONE IS!

"LOOK, RON SACRIFICED HIMSELF IN THE CHESS GAME.

"RON STOOD UP TO HIS WORST FEAR TO FIND THE TRUTH TO CLEAR A FRIEND'S NAME.

"RON STOOD UP TO A POTENTIAL MURDERER—ON A BROKEN LEG NO LESS!

"RON FOUGHT BESIDE ME AT THE MINISTRY, GETTING HEXED SEVERELY IN THE PROCESS.

"RON HELPED SEARCH AND DESTROY THE HORCRUXES CONTAINING PIECES OF TOM RIDDLE'S SOUL.

"RON IS THE GREAT QUIDDITCH PLAYER NOW.

"AND RON IS THE ONE WHO KILLED VOLDEMORT!"

There were a few gasps, but I was already stomping outside, breaking into a run towards the lake that lay between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.

I collapsed face-first onto the ground, already regretting the fact that I made a complete prat of myself.

Such an idiot.

Now I've gone and done the last thing I wanted. I made a spectacle of myself and probably embarrassed Ron. Again the attention would be taken away from Ron and drawn to me.

No wonder he got so upset during fourth year. He had every right to be.

Apparently, I must be an attention hog but never realized it.

I wondered how difficult it would be to get out of Booth's contract.

But could I really give up all that time with Ron? Could I really go without seeing him while they went out on the road for the next six weeks?

I buried my head further in my arms and wallowed in the mess I seemed to be making for myself.

A hand brushed my back and lightly trailed through my hair.

"Harry…"

Oh, Merlin. Even as upset as I was, his touch still had an affect on me.

Now I had two reasons why I couldn't turn to face him.

"Come on, Harry, look at me," Ron tugged on my collar.

I shook my head in my arms. "I…I'm sorry, Ron. I've ruined everything."

"What are you on about?"

"Your party, I was a right prat and made a huge scene…"

"That was the nicest speech anyone's ever given about me."

"And with Quidditch…"

"I just like playing, Harry. Especially when it's on the same team as you."

"And taking away that credit you deserve…I tried so hard to make them believe me," I sighed. "I just wish you could remember how brilliant you were."

I felt Ron's leg knock into my side. "I do."

"Because if you could just rem…What did you say?" I lifted my head to look at him. He sat hugging his knees to his chest, looking out over the lake.

He took a deep breath. "I do remember, Harry. All of it."

"But…" I didn't know whether I wanted to hug him or throttle him.

"Look, I figured everyone was expecting you to fulfill this Prophecy…"

"You said…" He held up his hand to stop me.

"I know what I told you. I meant that. It's just I had a feeling many people really put their faith into you being 'the Chosen One' and all. Most Wizards are rather superstitious fools. If they didn't believe you had done it, they might fear his return more."

I wanted to tell him that was a silly thought, but as I thought about it a moment longer, I realized how true that could be.

"And I also knew I would never be able to explain what happened—at least in a way that anyone would understand," he added.

"Not even me?"

"Especially you," he looked at me carefully. "Although I realized I was wrong about that. I should have told you. I'm sorry I lied about not remembering."

I pulled myself up into sitting position facing him as he took another deep breath.

"After the Crucio, I was pretty out of it. I heard the voices and I knew Riddle was talking to you, but I couldn't understand anything being said. All I knew was that he was near you and I needed to get him away from you. I needed to save you.

"So I willed myself to take everything I had, everything I wanted to protect you. Something in me shifted and I subconsciously knew that not only did I have to protect you, but I had to protect myself. To keep you alive, I had to remain alive.

"And to do that I had to double my magic. So, and I'm still not exactly sure how it worked, I called your magic to me. I was amazed when it came so easily and quickly.

"It was the strangest feeling, Harry, to feel your magic and mine together within me. Strange but sort of nice at the same time." He smiled shyly.

"I knew the spell. And knew the spell needed a wand to perform correctly. My wand was gone, but your magic told me that your wand was near. Not near enough for me to reach, but near enough to use.

"So I said the spell and Crabbe and Goyle were thrown away from me. Our magic filled me and began to seep out through the palms of my hands. It was a powerful feeling, yet I wasn't frightened of it. Instead I felt confident and brave.

"A purple light grew and burst out of my palms when I repeated the spell. The light was our magic, Harry. Yours and mine mixed together. Remember how you told me that a red light came out of your wand when you battled Riddle in the cemetery?" I nodded. "Well, my magic color is blue."

"Blue and red make purple," I said softly.

He nodded. "The third time I said the spell I felt the pull of the Dark Marks on all their arms. I know Malfoy was thrown back and Bellatrix and Nott let go of you. But our magic was protecting both of us from harm now.

"With a large flash of bright violet light, Riddle's soul touched my fingertips and seemed to bounce away, into your wand. Then it was over, and the Death Eaters were all out cold.

"Harry, you are right when you say I said the spell. But it was really both of us that made it work."

"No wonder I felt so weak even when I didn't really do anything. But Ron…how did you know how to call out to my magic?"

He licked his lips nervously and looked away for a brief moment before meeting my eyes with his.

"Remember the bonding spell performed at Bill and Fleur's wedding? Donare omnis corium means to 'give the whole heart.' So that's what I did. I pledged my whole heart to you and your magic reached out to meet mine.

"I'm in love with you, Harry."

I sat there, my mouth half open, my brain buzzing and my heart thumping loudly in my chest.

Ron started to shift away and I put my hand out to stop him.

And then I had him flat on his back, my lips pressed against his.

It was like taking a breath of fresh air after being underwater too long.

One of his arms slid around my waist and his other hand pushed through my hair.

I held his face in my hands as I licked and nipped at his lips. He opened his mouth to me and my tongue eased in to languidly rub against his.

I moaned at the touch and pressed my mouth harder against his, trying to merge them together.

He moaned this time, sliding his hand down my back to cup my arse in his large hand.

We came up for air, only to renew the kiss with more vigor. Then a third time. And a fourth.

Finally we reluctantly pulled apart, panting and hard against each other.

"Apparently," I said with a sly smile, "my magic knows its match to go to you so willingly. Either that or it's a little whore."

Ron's chest rumbled against mine as he laughed.

"Although, I think it may have taken some of my Quidditch skill with it. How else could you explain all your great saves and all my horrible catches?" I said playfully.

"Why you…" He pushed up and rolled us over so I was trapped underneath him. It was a position I could get very used to.

Very sincerely I looked up into those bright blue eyes and said,

"I love you, Ron Weasley, and I really do think you are brilliant, even if no one else can see it."

"I don't care what anyone else thinks about me. Only you, Harry. It's only ever been you."

teh end


End file.
